


The Best Line Had You and I

by ThereIsNoTragedyInThat



Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [229]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Boys In Love, Communication, Cozy, Domestic Fluff, Don't copy to another site, Drabble, Getting Together, Insecure Stephen Strange, M/M, Pre-Slash, Short & Sweet, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24081256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat/pseuds/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat
Summary: Ever since Titan Tony had made a habit of inserting himself into Stephen's life. He couldn't know how much Stephen liked that.
Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [229]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1118655
Comments: 3
Kudos: 123





	The Best Line Had You and I

“What’s it like?” Tony asked quietly.

Stephen looked up from the book in his lap, taking in the sight of Tony Stark curled up on his couch, eyes squinting at him in the dim room. It was late, the sun having sunk beneath the skyscrapers of New York hours earlier. Stephen hadn’t noticed the light fading from the room, too focused on his research, surfacing only to offer tea or comment on information Tony had managed to wrangle out of his own archaic texts.

At some point, his magic had done the work for him, the fireplace crackled loudly and cast ominous shadows over the messy sitting room, strewn with their hard work. Their progress on the latest disturbance had been slow…especially with the incessant questions thrown at him by Tony, usually leaving him unsettled and weary.

“What?”

Tony rubbed at his eyes, closed the book in his lap with a gentle hand, having learned after Stephen reprimanded him the first time about his harsh treatment of the artifacts. He looked lovely, despite the way exhaustion lined his features and his hands shook minutely from a very long day. Stephen mused that it was because he looked comfortable. Sitting here, in Stephen’s Sanctum, in his home, the man looked like he belonged, like one of the thousands of blurry indistinct memories that crowded the back of his mind, almost like a promise, a warning.

He waved a hand to indicate the room around them, warm brown eyes drifting over the darkened doorways and formal features before circling back around and landing on Stephen. That man’s gaze had proven something of a revelation. Sometimes, on the few occasions they had done this, it was filled with mirth and trickery, while more often irritation and passion sparked within while they argued the merits of science vs magic. But, even rarer, were moments such as this. Moments when Tony looked at him like he could see inside him, could crack open his skull and his chest and read every word written on his mind, carved into his heart. Those eyes often sent him reeling, exposed and vulnerable only to come away with the distinct sensation that Tony hadn’t gotten what he’d wanted, that he’d scraped by, just barely, with his heart intact.

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

Tony offered a biting smile, one that said he knew Stephen was playing dumb and he shouldn’t even try. That smile, much like his gaze, was dangerous. But Stephen had always known Tony Stark was the most dangerous of men.

“The Sanctum Stephen. I only ever seen you here or in the middle of a fight,” his fingers drummed against the hard cover of the book. “I find it difficult to imagine you cooking dinner or chatting on the phone, hanging out with friends or whatever.”

Stephen’s jaw tightened, discomfort settling in him like a stone. The Sanctum, though appointed to him despite his protests, had become his home, his place of refuge from the chaos of the world, from his own helplessness all those years ago. He had found a purpose here and he felt himself undeniably protective of his space. Few people from the outside were permitted unless it involved business or other sorcerers…but that was difficult to explain when none of those rules applied to Tony Stark.

The man had entered his life since Titan like a whirlwind. Although they had thus far only worked together to solve various threats, he seemed insistent on keeping steady communication about the inanest things. He called and texted constantly and didn’t seem perturbed by Stephen’s lack of responses. It never stopped him and on the rare occasion he’d been invited to the Sanctum for researched, he acted as though it were a second home as well. The entire thing…was strange.

“What do you imagine me doing then?” Stephen asked, if only to turn the subject away from whatever he was fishing for.

Tony shrugged, that annoying smile still dancing around his lips, “I don’t know. I just imagine you flitting through hallways and doorways like a ghost, hovering over your boiling potion, muttering in Latin and admiring your books.”

Stephen’s nose crinkled and he shook his head, always disgusted by the man’s insistence on stereotypes.

“Mostly…I imagine you’re lonely.”

Stephen stiffened, looking at the man whom he admired so much, had fallen for in all his tragic glory through a little green stone and felt his stomach churn sickly and his eyes sting as fury tried to crawl and fight its way out of his careful composure.

Pity was a hateful thing. Stephen had despised such an emotion for most of his life, since his sister’s wake and the sad, apologetic gazes of the mourners. Had been angry and ashamed by the force of it all after he lost the use of hands and insisted on more surgeries. Had willingly exiled himself here and away from Kamar-Taj after a few too many sorrowful, pained looks from the other sorcerers who knew of his trials with the Stone and Titan.

He had hoped Tony Stark would be above all that.

“You know Stark, I can do the research on my own. I’d hate for you to feel obligated to stay and fill the empty void that you assume is my home.”

Although his tone had been neutral, it earned him a raised eyebrow and unamused huff from Tony. Stephen hardly cared, he would not become one of Stark’s pet projects to fix, something to distract him from his own trauma.

“Strange, I admit that lacked any tact. I just meant…that I’ve lived in big homes my entire life and more often then not they were empty, cold, familiar,” he paused, seemingly choosing his words carefully. “You’re Sanctum…it doesn’t quite feel like that. I don’t know if its magic or whatever, but it feels homely, I guess. I just figure that doesn’t mean you don’t get sick of your own company at times.”

His eyes hadn’t faltered where they watched him so steadily and Stephen found himself sinking into their depths, finding something he hadn’t expected there. What he considered pity, might be a far more delicate emotion. He and Tony weren’t exactly the most forthcoming where emotions were involved…he wasn’t looking to fix Stephen’s situation with his presence, he was looking for someone who understood.

“I suppose…it can be lonely sometimes.”

A small smile and Tony nodded like he’d just confirmed something. Like Stephen had just agreed to far more than his simple statement of fact from earlier. He was wrong-footed yet again, except this time it didn’t feel like stumbling after the obvious, it felt like stepping into a new world, refreshing and unfamiliar.

“Well,” Tony said abruptly, stretching and placing the heavy book on the coffee table. “I’m sick of translating these books and I don’t think we’ll find anything else useful tonight. Its late but I know this great 24/7 sandwich shop about twenty blocks from here. What do you say we take a long walk and get some food?”

Despite his weariness Stephen found himself nodding and reveling in the expression of satisfied happiness on Tony’s face.


End file.
